Page 121 of Tempting the Highland Spy
Chapter Thirty
New York City
Six Weeks Later
“Grace, I am so happy you agreed to come here with me. We will have a grand time.”
Belle’s excitement was contagious. Since her return to America, the Notorious Heiress had stepped out in grand style, embracing her notoriety and transforming herself into America’s most talked about celebrity. The ladies’ pages of the New York papers eagerly described her gowns and her parties, even going so far as to set up a session with a photographer to capture images of the heiress in her Worth gowns and couture from Paris.
Now, standing at the edge of the dance floor in the ballroom of the Rockwell Grand Hotel with Grace at her side, Belle peeped over the top of one of Mrs. Royce’s self-defense devices. The black-lace fan with ebony ribs, sparkling sequins, and equally shiny bits of metal designed to add precisely enough weight to make an effective weapon perfectly accented her formfitting violet satin gown. She flashed a smile as a handsome gent strolled by and tipped his top hat.
“I haven’t had such fun in ages. Thank you for inviting us to New York.” Grace reached over to her sister and gave her hand a reassuring little squeeze. Newly turned seventeen, Claire was absolutely radiant in a modest gown of flowing pastel pink silk. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she surveyed the crowd of people who’d come to see the famous and those who’d come to be seen.
“Thank you so much,” Claire said. “This is a marvelous experience. I’ve never seen such a lovely place. Words cannot adequately express my appreciation.”
“I’m delighted you’re having a good time,” Belle said with a grin. “The musicians are marvelous. You’ll be happy to know I convinced Madame Devery, the soprano, to serenade the guests later in the evening. I wanted this ball to be an elegant affair. After all, itismy birthday. I’ve got great cause to celebrate.”
“You’ve given your guests a wonderful present,” Claire said.
“Thank you, dear. That was the idea.” Belle turned to Grace. “You may recall that I mentioned my father had set aside much of his fortune for charity.”
“His trusts have funded many worthy causes,” Grace said.
Belle moved closer and lowered her voice. “The thing of it is, the portion I received is enough to keep me in style until I’m old enough to be confused for a mummy. I’m going to have a grand time of it.”
Seeing the happiness in Belle’s eyes, Grace smiled. “Enjoy it. You deserve happiness.”
“As we all do.” Belle peered across the heads of the dancers, appearing to spot someone she recognized in the throng. “If you will excuse me for a few minutes, I must welcome one of the new arrivals.”
“Grace, this is wonderful,” her sister said as Belle navigated through the crush. “The musicians are so very talented. And handsome.”
Oh, dear. The prospect of handsome musicians catching her sister’s eye was the last thing Grace wanted to think about.
“Remember, you’ve plenty of time. I predict you’ll soon have more suitors than you can count.”
Claire flashed a sly little grin at the thought. “I do hope so…but for tonight, I’m going to enjoy the way it feels to wear a gown like this. It’s so beautiful. Now I understand how Cinderella must have felt.” Suddenly, her sister grabbed Grace’s hand again, giving it a little shake. “I believe that man is looking at you.”
Grace’s sigh couldn’t be heard above the strains of the waltz. After worries about handsome musicians catching Claire’s fancy, the last thing she needed was a handsome man looking at her so directly that her sister took notice.
“He is, Gracie,” Claire said, more insistent. “In fact, he’s coming this way. Look.”
Grace spotted him then. Harrison MacMasters maneuvered through the crowd with long, sure strides.
Her heartbeat sped up to a gallop, even as her stomach did a little somersault.
Surely he is not here. In America. An ocean away from his home.
He came closer, his movements infused with the confidence of a man used to getting what he wanted. Dressed in an immaculately tailored ebony tailcoat and trousers, Harrison cut a striking figure. His waistcoat of sage-green silk brought out the forest hues of his eyes, while his necktie in a rich shade of green was perfectly tied. In the gaslight, the burnished wheat tones of his hair seemed more defined, and it was all she could do to restrain herself from reaching out and running her fingers through the precisely clipped strands.
“Hullo, Miss Winters,” he said, sketching a bow so formal, it seemed almost mocking.
“Hello, Dr. MacMasters.” Grace said, then she introduced him to her sister, who seemed utterly delighted to make his acquaintance.
They exchanged a few polite statements, nothing beyond the conversation one might have with a casual acquaintance or someone who’d reached for the same book in the library. His gaze swept over her, and suddenly, she regretted wearing the emerald silk gown that brought to mind so many memories of passion and desire.
“You look beautiful tonight.” His low, husky voice seemed a physical touch.
Her heart stuttered as butterflies flittered about in her stomach. “Thank you,” she said, itching to put some distance between them.
